


The Quiet of Space

by MadcapRomantic



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fingering, Force Bond, PWP, Post The Last Jedi, Shameless Smut, force bond sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 15:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13367973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadcapRomantic/pseuds/MadcapRomantic
Summary: She is poison, from which he eagerly sips. She is ruin, for which he most ardently awaits. She is everything he wants, just barely outside his grasp.And he will keep reaching for her, until there is nothing left of him.





	The Quiet of Space

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spacepint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacepint/gifts).



> I gain no financial compensation for the writing or posting of my fanwork pieces. I acknowledge that all characters, settings, concepts and/or ideas belong to their respective creators. I claim ownership only to that which is of my own devising.
> 
> I do not give permission for this or any of my works to be re-posted on any other website. If you see this, or any other work of mine, posted on another website, please notify me immediately.
> 
> \---
> 
> This is 100% smut.
> 
> I make no apologies.
> 
> Edited and and dedicated to my hetero life-mate, spacepint; without her, I wouldn't be so heavily involved in this garbage ship. I both love and hate you, you stupid bitch.

It’s a long while before her sees her again. Their connection, strained though it’s been, remains wholly intact. She’s learning control, but she can’t remain focused at all times.

It comes as a surprise. He’s drifting off to sleep when it happens. His eyes, slowly blinking, spring wide open when he sees her lying in bed next to him.

Rey opens her eyes. The way her pupils dilate, the way she falls completely still, even going so far as to hold her breath, makes Kylo freeze.

And then the most remarkable thing happens: Rey lets go of the breath she’d been holding, closes her eyes, and rolls away, _but doesn’t disappear,_ doesn’t cut the connection. She doesn’t shout at him, doesn’t call him names. She simply lies there, her back toward him, quiet.

Unable to help himself, he reaches out a hand to touch her. The warmth of the skin of her shoulder sends little electric shocks shooting up the length of his arm. It leaves him nearly breathless.

She shrugs off his touch and scoots further away, refusing to turn back and face him.

He remains quiet, despite how his heart beats like a drum in his ears. He should say something, ask why she left him, but he knows she won’t answer. Besides, he knows the answer to his own question; he mostly just wants to hear her voice again, wants to hear again the sweet way she calls his name, his _real name._

Kylo reaches out, but doesn’t touch her.

He sleeps easy with the pure and simple joy of knowing they’re still connected.

When he wakes the next morning, the sheets opposite him are disheveled and still warm.

 

\---------

 

It happens again, three nights later. He’s not quite as close to the realm of sleep as he had been previously, but he feels something tug at his heart, and when he opens his eyes, there she is once more.

She meets his gaze. Her face doesn’t sour, though she remains silent. She doesn’t seem surprised, either, which raises questions in Kylo’s mind.

Like last time, she rolls over and presents him with her back.

And, just like last time, when he reaches out to touch her, she shies against his touch, shrugging him off and scooting away.

He thinks perhaps he should say something, but he can’t, for the life of him, muster up the courage to even make a sound in her presence. He listens as Rey breathes, hears her breath even out, her shoulders eventually relaxing as she drifts to sleep.

Just to make sure he’s not hallucinating, he reaches out and skims a fingertip down her neck.

Rey sighs against the touch, and Kylo pulls his hand back as if burned, knowing full well she’d object to his touch if she was still awake.

Falling asleep is difficult this time, but he eventually manages it.

When he opens his eyes, she’s gone again.

 

\---------

 

This time, the length between their impromptu meetings borders on two weeks. It makes him feel the part of a fool, going to bed with the hopes of seeing her again.

And maybe he is a fool - when he rolls over and sees her face, his heart leaps in his chest. But the moment lasts scant seconds, for there are tear stains on her face, her eyes red-rimmed and slightly bloodshot. She’s been crying, and it makes Kylo’s breath catch in his throat. He watches as she wipes her nose with the back of her wrist. Rey opens her eyes and jumps slightly when their eyes meet, and Kylo knows he’s the last person she expected to see at this moment.

He doesn’t ask her what’s wrong. He doubts she’d answer him; he feels lucky she acknowledges his presence at all.

What he does do, however, is offer her comfort the only way he knows how. He reaches out, not to touch her, but to lay his arm out toward her, palm up. Then, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

He forces down his surprise when, eventually, he feels the warmth of her fingers slide across his hand. Rey presses her palm against his, lacing their fingers together, and he hears her sob, feels the shaking of her body through the joining of their hands as she cries.

It’s the only contact she’s willingly given him since she closed the door while he begged for her not to leave.

He cherishes every moment of their touched hands.

 

\---------

 

It’s another two weeks before he sees her again, and for once, it’s not as he’s falling asleep. He’s freshly showered, a towel hanging off his hips as he enters his bedchamber. She’s standing there, starlight illuminating her face, and Kylo gasps he’s so taken with her beauty. He’s never seen her in such a state of dress before; an _actual_ dress, long and flowing, the pale fabric a delicious contrast against her sun-warmed skin. She turns at his intake of breath, her eyes going wide for a moment, obviously not having expected to see him either.

He smirks when she gives him a good once over, her cheeks taking on a lovely, rosy hue. Then, suddenly her eyes are anywhere _but_ on him.

Kylo slowly saunters toward her, feeling like a predator stalking his prey. She turns away from him, but much to his surprise as well as delight, she doesn’t leave. He moves to stand behind her, gazing out the windows of his quarters, pleased to simply be sharing space with her, even if they are galaxies apart.

He moves close enough that there’s no way Rey doesn’t feel his breath on the back of her neck, her hair done in an elegant, up-swept style. Kylo watches as she fidgets, but doesn’t shy away entirely. She reaches out with her arm, thin fingers winding around the stem of a glass of Daruvvian champagne, and Kylo watches as she downs the whole glass.

Rey turns her head as if she’s heard someone call her name, and the next time Kylo blinks, she’s gone.

But not for good.

Kylo dresses, pours himself two fingers of whiskey, and sits in the chair next to his bed.

She flickers into his line of sight again, same dress, but a new glass of something in her hand.

Biting his lip in his effort not to smirk, Ben shifts and crosses his ankle over his knee.

He sees _exactly_ what’s going on here; she’s at some kind of party, likely some stuffy event his mother had managed to convince her to attend. He remembers being strong-armed into going to such events when he was little, bored out of his mind, but he didn’t have much of a choice, being the son of Leia Organa.

Kylo watches as Rey grimaces, nodding occasionally, and he can’t help but pity her. He knows, based solely on his own personal experience, how uncomfortable she must be. She doesn’t walk much, which he assumes is due to her footwear. Her heels are high and thin, a soft yellow color, and she looks none too thrilled to be wearing them, based on how often she’s shifting her weight.

Even so, Kylo can’t help drinking her in. He’s caught staring at her more than once, but offers no apology; he feels no remorse. She’s beautiful like this, skin glowing and soft-looking. Not to say that she’s ugly or plain without her face painted, wearing loose-fitting clothing that consists entirely of shades of brown, white, and black. No, that’s not it. She’s different like this, that’s all, different in a way that Kylo had only previously entertained in his fantasties.

He finishes his whiskey. He turns to put his glass down, but she’s gone when he turns back.

 

\---------

 

Four days later, he enters his chambers as sees Rey, half-naked, standing in the middle of the room. His sharp intake of breath catches her attention, and she turns to face him. Shock and surprise erupt across her face, along with a blush that makes Kylo’s stomach twist in knots.

But she doesn’t run. She doesn’t disappear.

She simply turns away and clutches the towel that covers her tightly.

Kylo watches the back of her neck, entranced by the movements of the simple act of her swallowing.

He waves his hand behind him, locking the door, even though he knows no one else on the damned ship could see her. It doesn’t matter; this strange possessiveness he has for her rears its ugly head, makes his heart tight in the confines of his chest.

He’d offered her the universe, and she’d denied him.

Even so, he can’t find it in him to hate her. He feels dejected, cast aside, but he understands, _he does_ , because fear and confusion are powerful things.

But this ache his heart feels whenever he sees her outweighs all else in his mind.

Kylo is slow in his approach. He gives her time to flee, to find her focus and disappear.

She doesn’t.

He comes to stand behind her, his heart a thunderous cacophony in his head. He wets his lips with his tongue, but bites back any words that threaten to spill out of him. Instead, carefully, _slowly,_ he presses a kiss just behind her ear.

Kylo hears her soft gasp, and it only stokes the fire that’s ignited in his veins.

Bolder, he presses another kiss to the same place, then another, and another, and he wants to praise his luck when, ever so slightly, she bends her neck, offering him _more_. He kisses his way down her neck, pressing a gentle bite to where her neck and shoulder meet, delighting in the way he hears her breath hitch again. He moves down her shoulder, soft and tender in his ministrations.

He almost jolts in surprise when he feels her fingers cup the side of his head, gliding to move and card through his hair.

Kylo, desperate to touch more of her, moves his hands to grasp at her hips. Her breathy little whine spurs him on, and he can’t help himself when he pulls her backward so that his chest is flush with her back.

The fingers carding through his hair tighten their grip, but not enough to be painful.

Brazen, he trails one hand across and up her stomach, carefully taking the hem of the towel in his fingers.

Rey stills in his arms. He can hear her breath coming short and fast, and knows that she can feel his own pants as they ghost across the skin of her shoulder. They stand frozen for several moments, the only movement the rising and falling of their chests as they try to catch their breath.

Slowly, as gently as he can manage, Kylo presses a kiss to Rey’s temple.

She sighs against him, the tension easing from her shoulders.

The towel falls from her body, pools at her feet.

Kylo wastes no time. He wraps one arm around her middle, pulling her completely flush against him, the other moving upward. He cups one of her breasts, reveling in the soft mewl he pulls from her as he rolls her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She arches against him, pressing against his groin with her rear, and Kylo nearly loses control.

He can’t help his impatience, can hardly control the shaking of his limbs. He reaches down, presses his fingers into the soft mound of curls at the apex of her thighs, biting at the shell of her ear as he drinks in the sweet noises she makes. Her folds are soft, wet, and she grabs at his wrist when he presses his index and middle finger against the small bundle of nerves, but doesn’t pry his touch away.

The hand she has in his hair slips to the back of his neck, her short-trimmed nails digging into the skin at the nape. He rolls his hips forward, pressing the hard length of his cock against her backside, his fingers continuing to rub tight little circles between her legs.

He feels it, her orgasm. She stiffens in his arms, the grip at the back of his neck suddenly painfully tight. She arches against him, crying out against his ear, and with his free hand he reaches up and cups her chin, pressing her face to the side. He cranes his neck slightly, and it’s an awkward angle, but, oh, it’s perfect, the way he kisses the breath out of her.

And then, suddenly, she’s gone and Kylo tumbles forward, catching himself on the side of his bed before he hits the ground. He’s half delirious with want, with _need_ , and he stumbles as he pulls himself to sit on his bed. He throws himself backward, knees bent, feet flat on the floor, groping at the clasps of his pants.

He hisses when his cock is finally freed. It’s hard, the head an angry shade of purple, and he spares himself no gentleness as he strips himself, desperate to come. A handful of strokes and he’s painting white stripes up his chest, his neck straining as he bows his head back, overcome by a moment of ecstasy.

 

\-----

 

One week and two days he waits. This time, she finds her way to him not when he’s drifting to sleep, but waking from it. She’s bathed in warm light, her skin soft, freckled, and nearly flawless.

Rey blinks sleepily at him, and Kylo thinks that perhaps she’s been watching him sleep for some time.

When he reaches out to touch her, he doesn’t hesitate.

When his fingers coast across the smooth skin of her cheek, she doesn’t shy away.

Instead, she closes her eyes and sighs, presses into his touch.

It doesn’t take him long to notice that she’s naked.

It takes him less time to cover her body with his own.

He hoists her legs up at the bends of her knees, wrapping her lithe limbs around his waist. With one arm bent at the elbow, he leans down and settles his weight on his knees, his free hand pressing underneath her, up her spine, coming to rest at the nape of her neck.

She winds her arms around his neck, pulls him down, and grants him the sweetest of kisses.

But sweetness isn’t all that Kylo is after; no, he hungers for the brief taste of her that had haunted his dreams since their last encounter. He presses his tongue to the seam of her lips, bawdy, half-desperate.

But she pays his brashness little heed, twisting her mouth away from his, carding her fingers through his hair and pressing a soft kiss to the shell of his ear.

He wants to shout his frustration, clench his fists and spit and howl.

Rey presses another gentle kiss to his lips, and his irritation ebbs away like a leaf carried downstream.

She moves her soft lips across his face, kisses the closed seams of his eyelids, the bridge of his nose, first one temple, then the next.

He shudders at her ministrations, tender and temperate in a way he thinks he’s never known. Her breath is warm as it ghosts across his face and he lets her maneuver him as she desires, feeling loose and pliant in her grip.

But he still _wants_.

When he pays her back the sweet kisses she’s only just gifted him, he delights in the contented sigh he hears fall past her lips. He kisses the corners of her mouth, nips at her bottom lip, drags his lips across her cheek so that he can bite an earlobe. The beautiful gasp he pulls from her is worth his patience.

He moves down her neck then, nipping at her skin, pressing soothing kisses when she hisses from a bite that’s too firm. It doesn’t take long before her closely-bitten nails start to press into the skin of his neck and shoulders.

Kylo reaches down and grips her thighs, coasting up the smooth skin of her legs to push at her knees, unwinding them from around his waist.

Like a predator, he moves methodically down her body. Her eyes flutter open, their gazes catching, and something deep within him clenches as he watches her bite her bottom lip.

Gently enough that all she has to do is roll away if she so wishes, Kylo pushes her legs to bend, exposing her very core.

He feels her shudder and shake under his hands, but her gaze holds no trepidation.

Kylo lowers his mouth to her.

Rey shouts, nearly bows off the bed. Kylo watches, utterly entranced, as she squirms and mewls under his tongue. The very taste of her is enough to drive him half-mad, but what he _wouldn’t give_ to see her come apart like this.

Her head is thrown back, the column of her throat exposed to him like some kind of offering. He rues the fact that he can’t be both between her legs and at her mouth. Instead, he settles for what he can manage, carefully reaching down with one hand to press against her wet folds.

One of her hands shoots down to tangle in his hair, and the other she stuffs in her mouth, as if embarrassed by the noises he’s coaxing from her.

When he presses a finger inside of her, she continues to writhe and whine under him. He thinks he hears a distinctive sob, but the sound is pushed from his mind when he feels one of her thighs tense under his hand.

He presses his tongue harder against the little bundle of nerves, there, just above where his finger slowly presses in and out of her. For a brief moment, he almost thinks he hears his name - his real name - come tumbling out of her, but then he’s caught up in the tensing of her body under his hand and mouth.

Kylo continues to lave at her through her aftershocks, until she practically pushes him off, whimpering and shuddering. He pulls his finger free, pushes it into his mouth, aching to the depth of his core that she isn’t actually there with him, that they are still galaxies apart. He can feel her warmth; why, _damn it_ , can’t he have every part of her?

His eyes snap to hers when he realizes that not only is she still there with him, but that she’s tugging at his wrist. He lets her guide him over her, much in the same position from earlier, and he wonders, just for a moment, what’s she’s doing. That’s when he feels her other hand blindly groping at the bulge in his sleep pants, and he bites his tongue so hard he can almost taste the tang of blood in his mouth.

She manages to unfasten his pants, slips her delicate hand past the fabric, and when he feels her fingers encase his cock, he nearly comes then and there. He gasps and pants above her, clinging to her shoulders, desperately praying that she won't disappear from beneath him.

The way she strokes him is clumsy, unsure, but it's perfect, enough that it's her touch, that it's _her._

Rey cups his face and brings their lips together as all the muscles in his back tighten. His toes curl, and the world around him is drowned out by the blood rushing through his ears.

When he regains his breath, she grants him one last, lingering kiss before she fades into nothing.

Kylo collapses, torn apart by the loss of her.

 

\-----

 

Four days later, and he’s seething.

It’s not her fault - no, he could never be mad at her, not like this - but fury runs through his veins in place of blood. She’s sitting on his bed when he enters his chambers, and it stops him short. The door shuts with a swish behind him, and she turns to look at him. Her forehead creases when their eyes meet, and he knows that she can see the rage written upon his face. She stands, tentatively walks toward him, and reaches her hand out.

Her delicate fingertips glide across his face, her palm moving to cup his cheek. Without a word, she’s asking after him, and it cuts him to the core that she won’t speak.

Kylo turns his head, tearing himself away from her touch. He steps around her, and begins to disrobe, entering his bathroom without a look back.

She isn’t there when he’s done, freshly showered and hair still wet. He pulls on his undergarments, out of habit more than anything.

Just like that first time, she appears to him as he’s falling into the clutches of sleep. He doesn’t jump, and neither does she, but she does do something that makes him still; she _smiles_. It’s quiet, and small, but it’s there, gracing her lips, unmistakable. She reaches out her hand again, cups his cheeks, and lets out a soft sigh.

Kylo moves to her, caught in the gravity that is her star. Her fingers are gentle on his face as they move to thread though his hair, coming to rest at the nape of his neck. He’s half atop her, their legs entwined, his weight held up by a single bent elbow, his other hand clutching tightly at her hip.

Rey guides their lips together, softly, sweetly, over and over again, and Kylo is _lost_ . She is poison, from which he eagerly sips. She is ruin, for which he most ardently awaits. She is _everything_ he wants, just barely outside his grasp.

And he will keep reaching for her, until there is nothing left of him.

He takes her bottom lip between his teeth, gently pulls it, drinking in the soft little gasps he elicits from her. One of her hands coasts down between his shoulder blades, and he shudders under her touch, knowing he will _never_ get enough.

He is an addict, and she’s his drug of choice.

Kylo trails kisses across her jaw, biting softly at the shell of her ear, giddy when he feels her fingernails press into the flesh of his bicep. She offers him her neck, and he can’t help but press his teeth to the soft flesh there, reveling in the fact that he can actually feel her heartbeat against the wet heat of his tongue.

The fingers she cards through his hair suddenly grip the strands tightly when he pushes up the fabric of her shirt and takes one rosey pink nipple into his mouth. She’s panting under him, arching against him, and he moves to sit on his knees above her, his bent elbows bearing the brunt of his weight as he plucks at the little nub with his teeth. He moves one hand to usher her to wrap her legs around him, and she’s quick to comply.

He presses the junction of his hips against her, and the noise that bubbles up out of her makes his blood ignite. There’s no mistaking a noise like that - wanting, _desperate_ \- so he repeats the motion, and she coos and gasps again, her head craning back on the pillow. Her legs tighten their grip around his waist.

Kylo makes quick work of her clothing, and she offers him no qualms in his removal of it. She lays there, unclothed, completely bare to his gaze, and Kylo tries to memorize every square inch of skin he’s witness to, every scar, every freckle. He wants this until his dying day, her spread out like this, below him, reaching her hands up to cup his face. He isn’t sure how he’s managed to live so long without knowing her lips, but now that he does, he’s quite sure he will die if he were to go without it for long. She should always be like this: naked, trembling in anticipating of the pleasure he writes with a touch on her skin.

The deep blush she wears - from high on her cheeks all the way down her throat - makes his cock twitch in his undergarments, the motion pulling him from his thoughts and back into the moment, and he practically rips the fabric apart in his haste to be rid of it.

A hand over his heart stops his movement. He looks up at her, catches her gaze, almost afraid she’ll ask him to stop.

But the soft smile that graces her face puts his fears to rest.

She presses him backwards and he goes without hesitation, unable to deny her even the simplest of things. Flat on his back, he looks up at her, his heart caught in his throat.

When she throws a leg over his waist and straddles him, he nearly bites his tongue off.

Her hand, pressed over his frantically beating heart, is warm and solid. She settles atop him on her knees, reaching backward. His hands grasp at her thighs, desperate for purchase.

His eyes slam shut when he feels her fingers encircle his cock, maneuver it gently so that it lines up with the hot folds at the apex of her thighs.

But she stills, then, like she’s unsure.

Kylo slowly opens his eyes, breath coming in great gasps, his heartbeat a thunderous drum beating out an erratic rhythm inside of his skull.

She looks down at him, bites her lip, then pushes down in one motion, until her rump grinds against his pelvis.

He cries out, unable to keep the sound within him. His grip moves to her hips as he curls up, half sitting, his knees bent, feet flat on the bed.

She’s shivering above him, and Kylo scrambles to hold himself together. It’s the sweetest, most intense sensation he’s ever felt, the hot grip of her body around his cock, and he knows he’s not alone in this feeling, if the strength of the grip she has on his shoulders is any indication.

He reaches up, cups her face with his large palm, running his thumb across her cheek. She presses into his touch, but whimpers all the same.

It’s an awkward angle, but he strains forward and presses a kiss to her lips, then another and another, gentle in his movements. He needs this touch, and he feels she does, too.

The kisses they share are soothing, slow and with tender fervor.

Eventually, she pulls back, puts her hands on top of his shoulders, and rises up, nearly off of him completely. He wants to cry out at the loss of her, but before he can so much as open his mouth, she drops and slams back down.

The very breath is torn from him.

She rides him like that, their eyes locked. He reaches one hand up, pulls the grip she has on his shoulder to his own hand, lacing their fingers together as he lays so his back is flat against the bed covers. Using his feet as leverage, he bucks up the next time she moves down, and the noise she makes is music to his ears.

He’s not going to last, not going to make it much longer with the hot grip her body has on him. He bites his lip, half-wild in his want to keep this moment going for all of eternity, but his body was not made for forever, and he can’t stop the lightning that crackles down his spine any more than he can stop time with little else than his own two hands.

But he can take her with him.

He lets go of her hip, moves his clever fingers between her legs. He presses against the wetness of her, his fingers slipping, but he won’t crest that wave without her, he _won’t_.

He feels it before he sees it in her, her body clenches. Her eyelashes flutter before her eyes shut completely, her body bowing on top of him, and he hears, quiet and soft a single word.

“ _Ben_.”

He comes so hard he sees stars, his vision going black at the corners.

She collapses on top of him, and he catches her, eager to keep feeling her weight against him. He presses a litany of kisses to the line of her hair, her temple, the both of them panting and shaking.

He’s not sure when he falls asleep, but he knows he does so with her tucked up against him.

She’s still there when he wakes, and he knows, without a doubt, she will be his undoing.


End file.
